Just Another False Alarm
by Brutal-Bugaboo
Summary: Eames looks back on a decade of knowing Arthur and recalls all the good and bad times. From the moment he met Arthur and the young man's pride made him want to unravel him to the day he gets a phonecall and hears Arthur cry for the first time because of Mal's death. Eames comes from wanting to fight Arthur and ends up needing to fight for Arthur. Shamelessly in love with.


Warnings: this fic contains suicide and a lot of hurt and grief. Don't like, don't read.

* * *

Eames knew exactly how it had come this far, but not quite 'why'.

They had been 'off' for a long time, Arthur and he. What had started as a beautiful - yet nonetheless odd - romance had somehow ended up with Eames roaming the streets in the middle of the night for so long that the muscles in his calves whined with soreness.

But Eames kept walking, kept inhaling smoke from his damp cigarette as the rain vengefully splattered down on him. The man was afraid that if he'd stop in his tracks, realization would dawn upon him. Facts that this was the end, would stream relentlessly into his mind which already ached with the subconscious knowledge of his life never being the same again.

Memories did press urgently to Eames' awareness, prickling his scalp and resulting an unpleasant shiver to roll down his spine. Though that could've been the cold air biting his skin.

With a frustrated huff, Eames flicked his cigarette aside after having dragged uselessly for a minute before realizing the rain had soaked the stick to no avail. 'Great, just great.' He thought to himself before adding a more depressive 'What else could possibly go wrong tonight?'.

As he dug his hands deeper into the pockets of his soaked trousers, simultaneously dipping his nose into his scarf, memories shoved themselves into his brain without pity and his heart wrenched at the visual memoir of when he had met Arthur for the first time.

* * *

_"How far up is the stick in your arse exactly?" Eames joked, though he couldn't prevent the scowl taking away the believability of his teasing smirk. _  
_Arthur quirked an eyebrow at that, seemingly unimpressed with the forger's first words to him including his ass and a stick._

_"Though I admire the colorfulness of your words, I must decline to answer your question as you have no relations to my 'arse' or the stick up in there." Arthur turned on his heels after a hint of a glare and walked away, posture stiff but unbelievably feline at the same time._

_Eames knew he was lost, right there and then._

_He allowed the new point man to win this battle, though. Eames knew the war was his' to lead and he already reveled in fantasies to get under Arthur's skin._

_A hand on his shoulder made him drag his eyes away from Arthur who sat down at his desk with a straight back and an even more straight facial expression, seemingly unaware of Eames' lingering gaze._

_"Way to make a first impression, Eames." The forger turned his head towards Dom standing next to him and grinned sheepishly._

_"Couldn't help myself. You know what mathematicians do to my temper." Eames joked, though it was true that Arthur's rational and rather bland introduction as to what their parts on the job would include had made the forger's skin crawl. Bloody hell, Arthur hadn't even so much as introduced himself properly, instead taking up a leader-role within the first five minutes of arrival._

_Eames thought he hated him, but the tailored suits wrapped the point man's body is such delicate manners that the forger knew he fancied him the moment he had stepped inside. _  
_And those assumptions only got confirmed when Arthur had easily snapped back at him when he had insulted the younger man. Eames hadn't particularly hoped for Arthur having a smart mouth going with that expressionless face of his'… But then again he hadn't want the man to explode in anger at him, either._

_A challenge appeared and Eames was willing to go at it, head on._

* * *

The memory faded when Eames turned a corner and ice cold wind accompanied with rain collided against his frame. The forger buried his nose deeper into his soaked scarf - which truly didn't offer that much heath any longer - and bit back a sting of longing for the 'good old days'.

Back then, their relationship had been a mess. The first two years they had been more cat and dog rather than cat and mouse - which came after the initial twenty-four months -.  
Nonetheless those days had been simple, peaceful even with all the bickering and unanswered longing on Eames' side.

The forger had always assumed his interest in the point man had been one-sided. Arthur on his turn could've never known Eames' true emotions towards him because frankly, the Brit flirted and teased anything that willingly put up a fight.  
But damn, he did. Arthur did figure out and like the cool, rational, uptight prick he was, he had confronted Eames with even lesser shame than there had been subtlety.

* * *

_"I know what your problem is." Arthur coolly spoke as he passed Eames' desk to grab his shoulder bag from the clothes hanger beside the warehouse's entrance. It was nearly midnight and the rest of the team had left._

_Eames blinked a couple of times before looking up at Arthur who now stood at the other side of the desk the forger sat at. The tailored coat snugly framed the point man's narrow waist and long fingers rested nimbly on the strap of his messenger bag._

_"I beg your pardon, what problem?" Eames looked up from the papers in front of him and threw his most charming smile, hiding confusion and nervousness from his face. A trade he practiced so many times in the past that it had now been perfected… Well, so he had thought until Arthur the mind-reader had come along._

_Arthur's jaws clenched, his eyes shifting at a point over Eames' head. After he adjusted the strap of his bag more high on his shoulder, the point man continued._

_"Don't play dumb, Mr. Eames. It doesn't suit you." His brow furrowed at his own words but he still waited patiently for Eames to catch up on what he actually meant to say. _  
_Eames on the other hand still didn't get it and he straightened his back before slumping in his chair, legs spread and hands carelessly resting on his lap._

_"Don't beat around the bush, Pet. Doesn't suit you." The forger threw back, grinning. _  
_Arthur barely managed not to roll his eyes._

_"I know it's more than teasing." The younger man spoke matter-of-factly, hazel eyes holding their grip on the pair of gray ones. _  
_Eames quirked an eyebrow at that, seemingly unimpressed at the surface, though beneath it his heart pounded waves of irrational fear through his system._

_"I know you like me, Eames." The forger was very grateful for not choking on his own spit as he gulped loudly._

_"… 'Like you'?" Eames repeated, playing dumb because truly he didn't know why Arthur was confronting him about this now. It couldn't possibly be that the point man had only figured this out this night, after three years of having worked together and having fought and bickered countless times._

_Then again… Eames had to admit… Three years of flirting and teasing would seem suspicious to anyone, especially someone as bright as the younger man._

_"Yes." He replied stiffly, shoulders tensing only in the slightest but enough for Eames' practiced eyes to catch up on it._

_"So, that's a problem then?" Eames asked, bringing up one leg to rest and ankle on his knee, he tried not to fumble with his thumbs._

_"It is for you." Arthur shifted his weight, subconsciously mimicking movements from Eames. _  
_The forger ignored the statement, not liking that Arthur had caught up on Eames' very secretive issues regarding his unanswered 'feelings' towards his colleague. Not that it was a drama or anything but… the man had to admit he had developed some sort of crush throughout the years on Arthur._

_Annoyance and amusement had eventually made way for careful infatuation and obvious appreciation for the tailored handsomeness that was the point man._

_"Not for you, then?" Eames asked, not willing to confirm nor deny Arthur's assumption._

_Arthur's eyes wavered towards Eames' lips for only a second before their gazes met once again. _  
_It took Eames' breath away when the point man dimpled at him. Eames had seen Arthur smile before and it had always been a damn torture to his self composure. Nonetheless those dimples had never been flashed towards the forger, ever._

_It wasn't a full-on smile, just a quirk of the corner of Arthur's mouth, dimpling his left cheek… But it was enough to make Eames stutter on his words._

_"I-is it? A problem, I mean?" The forger mentally smashed his own head with a brick for allowing Arthur to be a witness of his uncomfortable confusion and insecurity._

_The dimple in Arthur's cheek disappeared, though the creases around his oval eyes notified Eames of the man's amusement. It had happened on a few rare occasion that Arthur had teased back… But never had it gotten accompanied with dimples nor creases._

_"No." He spoke simply, tipping his head sideways a bit._

_"No?" Eames quirked an eyebrow, smirking with a sense of humor he didn't feel._

_"No," Arthur began, turning around and adjusting the shoulder strap of his bag once more as he walked towards the double doors leading outside._

_As Eames had expected - or hoped - Arthur paused with his hand resting on the door handle and looked over his shoulder towards the forger._

_"I like you too." He simply said, all amusement having abandoned his face. Before Eames could do more than gape like a fish on the dry, the point man had already left, closing the door gently behind him._

* * *

Eames brushed a hand over his face, swallowing down on the lump in his throat before fumbling in one of the pockets of his coat. The rain had eased down a bit, and though it was still drizzling, it wasn't enough for Eames not being able to smoke another cigarette.

He really needed the nicotine… He really needed alcohol but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to drown his sorrow… Not yet. Shock and denial still too great.

After that moment, when Arthur had admit to his feelings being returned likewise, their relationship had changed for the better.  
Though Arthur had still been uptight and condescending, he flashed more dimples whenever Eames joked around with Dom, amusement obvious in his normally blank face.

And though the moments where he'd smile at Eames and Eames alone could be counted on one hand still to this day, the younger man opened up slowly but surely over the following two years.

They'd known each other for five years before they wavered into more than just flirtatious colleagues. Eames wasn't sure if he regretted that day or not because it had brought them together… But only because Arthur had changed, had weakened and blatantly had needed Eames' presence.

The forger just wished circumstances had been different.

* * *

_"She what?" Eames barely managed to not shriek into the phone he held against his ear. His stomach sunk heavily, gravity seeming to want to drag him down and the forger hastily plumped down on the nearest seat in the apartment._

_"She took her own life." Arthur's voice cracked and Eames knew it wasn't only because of the horrible phone line trying to cope with the distance between Paris and Mombasa._

_Eames closed his eyes and pressed thumb and index finger against his lids, pressing down a beginning migraine._

_Mal, wife of Dom, had committed suicide. Neither Eames or Arthur had seen it coming and it was a shock to the both of them._

_Though Eames had met her only a couple of times, back when she had been 'okay' and not succumbed into depression, he had instantly grown fond of her. Her intelligence and the spark in her eyes, as well as the lolling of her French accent and the haze clouding her whenever she looked at Dom had made her very easy to adore._

_But Eames was aware that Arthur had known her much more closely and a lot longer than Eames had. The raspy tone in the point man's voice was enough proof of that because Arthur simply did not… cry. The forger knew he had cried or desperately was trying to hold back tears and it made his heart ache not being able to comfort him._

_"I'm gonna book a flight." Eames said after a minutes long silence._

_"What?" Arthur asked, sounding honestly confused and the sniffle that followed sucker punched Eames in the stomach._

_That night was when Eames realized that what he felt for the point man was a lot more than infatuation and a challenge._

_That night when Eames felt desperate, angry and sad much more because of Arthur's hurt than for the fact Mal was gone. _  
_That hot summer night in Mombasa, when after having Arthur cut off the phone abruptly because Eames simply hadn't been able to reply because of the lump in his throat, he had trashed his apartment and had drank himself numb…_

_Eames realized he was in love._

* * *

The forger groaned around his cigarette, throwing it away because it just made him feel more sick than he already did.

His legs ached and his lungs burned. His throat felt thick with held back tears and the back of his nose prickled unpleasantly.

The forger turned another corner and finally stopped in his tracks, instead optioning to lean against a wall in a narrow and dark alley. Abandoned from the few people still roaming the city streets at three in the morning

His head tipped back against the brick wall and his eyes slipped close, images of years spent with Arthur flashing on the inner sides of his eyelids rapidly.

* * *

_"Arthur?!" Eames shouted after busting into Arthur's apartment in Paris. It had taken far too bloody long to arrive with delayed flights and the point man hadn't replied to a single phone call or text message._

_Eames thanked his lock-picking skills as he slammed the door shut behind him and walked further into the modern-looking home of the point man. He'd never been here before, so the forger walked around aimlessly, opening and shutting doors as he called the man's name._

_The last door in the apartment came into view and Eames rested a hand on the handle, pausing for a second to take a deep breath, images of Arthur with a bullet drilled into his skull flashing into sight._

_He opened the door and walked inside, heart thumping wildly and rushing blood deafening him._

_The room was dark even though it was two in the afternoon. A sliver of sunlight had managed to sneak inside through a gap in the drawn curtains. It was enough light for Eames to see Arthur's figure lying curled into a ball on a bed._

_"Arthur?" He spoke, his voice lowered to a hush as he walked carefully towards the man. Eames listened closely and when a soft intake of breath filled the dark bedroom, the forger felt as if he wanted to sink down onto the floor and thank every God he didn't believe in for Arthur being alive._

_Eames pressed a gentle hand on the sleeping man's shoulder, not able to prevent himself from brushing his thumb over the knobby bone he found there._

_"Arthur?" He repeated, listening for his breath and worrying about how it sounded a bit too shallow and far too slow. It wasn't until he rolled up his eyes to the nightstand, filled with dozens of empty medicine containers and an empty bottle of cheap vodka, that Eames sprung into action._

_"Arthur!" He turned the man onto his back, only slightly relieved at the lack of vomit and blood, yet very worried at the paleness of the point man's face. He shook him harshly before optioning to slap him across his jaw, hard._

_It took another two slaps before Arthur woke with a shuddering gasp. His eyes were drowsy and empty as they tried to focus on Eames' looming figure._

_"W-what…" He began but Eames interrupted him immediately, his heart skipping several beats to see the point man awake._

_"How many did you take?" The forger asked insistently and he dug his fingers into the man's shoulders when his eyes had threatened to shut again._

_"What?" Arthur frowned almost angrily, though his eyes still wavered all over the place, his head lolling as Eames shook him._

_"How many?! Pills, how many did you take?!" It took a couple of seconds for Arthur to wet his lips before he croaked an answer._

_"Jus- a few-" He drawled._

_"No- nough tkill me." Eames gnawed on his bottom lip, trying to decide whether to believe the man or not. He optioned to take his pulse, years of militarization given him at least enough medical skills as to find out is someone was threatening to die or not._

_Arthur's pulse was slow with an occasional off-beat…_

_"When did you take them?" The forger asked instead, shaking once again when Arthur began to slip back into unconsciousness._

_"Iunno… when… I cal'd you." His voice cracked, words slurred heavily with intoxication. If that was true, that had been plenty of hours ago and he should've been dead by now, if not in a coma, had he taken as much as Eames feared he had._

_"You didn't take anything in the meanwhile?" Arthur shook his head lazily at his question, seeming to wake up bit by bit with each passing minute, which eased Eames' mind only a little._

_"Am drunk-" Arthur chuckled, eyes closing but he inhaled more deeply and Eames felt his pulse grown stronger underneath his thumb which pressed in the hollow of Arthur's wrist._

_"Bloody hell, Arthur. You scared the shit out of me." Eames muttered under his breath though relief was too great for him to actually be angry at the point man, that would come later though._

_"Only wanted to sleep." Arthur whispered so softly that Eames had barely caught the words. He looked at the younger man lying on his bed. His clothes were a mess, crinkled and askew. There was a slight stubble on the man's jaw and his hair was as disheveled as the expression on his face._

_He looked frail, weak… tired. Nothing like the self-sure, perfectionist that Eames was so used to bicker with._

_Eames grew nauseas as he saw the point man's face distort in realization, having sobered enough to have reality slam back into his conscious._

_The heaving sob that followed cut right through Eames' heart and it was the most horrible sound the man had ever heard in his life. It shook him to the core, wrecking his peace and flaring the need to save, protect and heal._

_Eames didn't second doubt his actions and instead crawled onto the bed, pulling Arthur against his chest and swallowing down the vile taste in the back of his mouth when the point man curled into a ball against him._

_Arthur's movements were slow and clumsy with the drugs in his system but somehow he managed to grab two fists full of Eames' coat, burying his face in the hollow of the forger's throat. _  
_The older man wrapped firm arms around his frail body, a protective hand cradling the back of Arthur's head, fingers stroking his hair soothingly._

_That afternoon, in Arthur's dark bedroom, the point man cried himself back to sleep with Eames murmuring soothing words against his scalp. It was the only time Eames had ever seen Arthur cry and as his heart wept with him, he wished and prayed that he'd never see it again._

* * *

It had been the only time where Eames had seen Arthur so open and frail. Though the man had been drugged on medication and alcohol, it somehow had been the most sobering experience for Eames as he had realized that Arthur wasn't at all the perfect, stick-up-his-arse, arrogant and cold-hearted creature he seemed to be.

It had been horrible. But yet it had been a kick start to Arthur and Eames' relationship growing deeper and more fond… Nonetheless, sad.

Eames had thought many times of how it would've been if Mal hadn't passed away. If he'd ever have managed to crawl into Arthur's space and have the man fall in love with him as much as he had fallen in love with him years before he even had realized it.  
He wondered that if that had indeed happened, their relationship had been more happy than it had been in all those years that led to tonight.

Arthur had been strong, condescending and a downright prick. But he had been bright, eyes always shimmering with crisp intelligence. Humor making his cheeks dimple and his eyes wrinkle.

After Mal, he changed.

After Mal, he became meek, tired and spent.

* * *

_A year after Mal's death and Arthur still wasn't back to his old self. Eames feared he'd never again witness the charming man Arthur had been back in the day._

_No more bickering or snappy remarks, let alone a flashing of a dimple or a condescending compliment thrown at him. _  
_Eames grieved Arthur's mental decay more than he'd ever do Mal's physical absence._

_He missed him._

_"Hey." Eames blinked before looking up at Arthur who stood next to him. His face was pale, and a bit thinner than it had been a year ago._

_"Hey." Eames grinned, weakly._

_They still talked with one another. Though subjects were never about teasing one another. _  
_After that night when Arthur had cried himself to sleep in Eames' arms, everything had changed. They hadn't mentioned it, though Arthur had basically kicked him out the moment he'd been sober enough._

_Nonetheless, Arthur had never been the same man again._

_"Join me?" Arthur asked, his voice perfectly clear from any emotion._

_Eames didn't bother to ask where or for what, instead he got up, grabbed his coat and followed Arthur outside the warehouse._

* * *

Eames couldn't help but smile softly at the memory starting to visualize in his mind. His smile lacked happiness though, even as it was supposed to be one of the better moments he'd had with Arthur in the past.

* * *

_"A-Arthur-" Eames gasped in shock as Arthur pressed hungry lips against his own. The point-man had rather roughly shoved Eames up against his front door after it had closed behind them when entering Arthur's apartment in Paris._

_Eames hadn't imagined their first kiss to be like this, hungry and sloppy with the man's thigh shoved between the forger's legs. He didn't really want to complain but he was just very startled at the man's actions._

_"What're you doin'?" The older man asked, words stumbling because Arthur didn't bother to stop kissing him, his hands fumbling with the golden buttons of Eames' salmon colored shirt._

_Eames hadn't really expected this to happen when Arthur had asked for him to 'join him'._

_"What does it look like I'm doing?" Arthur huffed with tense amusement as he optioned to manhandle Eames' shirt open rather than patiently unbutton it. The forger would've hummed appreciatively at the sound of his buttons flying against the floor if he hadn't already been doing so because of Arthur's lips shoving against his own._

_Though Eames had wanted this for many years - probably at the moment when Arthur had snappily commented on the stick-up-the-arse joke from Eames - something in the back of his mind yelled for him to stop._

_Arthur was ill._

_Arthur was depressed, confused, he hadn't been himself after Mal's death… He was making irrational decisions in a spur of weakness._

_Eames wrapped gentle fingers around Arthur's biceps before pushing him away._

_"Stop." He whispered, his voice already hoarse by the promises Arthur's lean body pressed against his' had made._

_The point man frowned irritably as he pulled back, dark eyes searching Eames' face for an explanation as to why he'd put an end to something he obviously had wanted for years._

_Eames took a deep breath, slowing down his pulse intentionally because his ears were already buzzing and his bruised lips craved the attention of Arthur's._

_"Why are you doing this?" The Brit asked, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles on Arthur's arms where he held them. Arthur's frown deepened, his chest heaved as he panted. _  
_Eames bravely ignored how swollen and red the younger man's lips already looked. They were moistened by Eames' saliva._

_"Am I supposed to explain myself to you, Eames?" His tone was angry and clipped and he shook off Eames' hands which dropped to the man's sides immediately. The forger's fingers twitched now that they didn't have Arthur's warmth underneath them._

_"Well, it's just that you-" Eames' words stuttered mid-sentence as Arthur surprised him with grabbing an ornament from the hallway table next to them and flinging it to the wall not that far away from where Eames stood. _  
_It shattered and the noise brought a halt to the forger's thoughts and words._

_"No!" Arthur shouted, voice firm yet slightly shaken._

_"There is nothing wrong with me!" He continued, eyes wide as they drilled into Eames'. The latter took a careful breath, his mind coming back to live and rapidly trying to get an understanding of the current events._

_"I'm sick and tired of everyone walking on eggshells around me!" Arthur folded his hands into fists and Eames noticed how his whole body was trembling as his knuckles turned white. Though the man wasn't close to crying, the anger and agony on his face was evident and Eames sadistically drank in the emotions that Arthur was showing after a year of numbness._

_It made him wonder how long exactly Arthur had been holding it all in, how long the man had been lying and tossing around._

_"I'm tired of everyone treating me like a fragile little boy! I hate how all of you are keeping an eye out for me, and might I add, none of you are fucking subtle about it at all." Eames shouldn't have been surprised that Arthur was aware of how the rest of the team kept in touch frequently and more than half of the time would be discussing Arthur, but he was._

_"And there's no damn reason for this, today, okay? I want to fuck with you, Eames. Leave it or take it but don't throw that 'confused - depressed - boy' bullshit at me!" They stood in silence for a while as Eames drank in the sight of a heavily breathing Arthur, eyes glaring and nostrils flaring. _  
_Also did the forger let Arthur's words sink into his brain. He wasn't sure whether to believe the point man… He was pretty sure the man was all that he had just denied; confused and depressed. But it was obvious Arthur was having none of it. _  
_And though Eames wasn't at all sure if this was the right thing to do, that if sex with Arthur would be the right thing for Arthur's conscience… He still was only a man._

_"Okay." Eames nodded after many minutes of silence._

_"Yeah?" Arthur asked with a quirking of his left eyebrow and Eames nodded once again._

_"Yeah."_

* * *

Eames swallowed thickly as he took a long drag from his cigarette, moist eyes looking up at the sky above.

He didn't want to think back about what had happened after that. He didn't want to recall the mind-blowing sex that had followed; raw, passionate and seemingly more revolved around allowing Arthur to hurt him rather than Eames to pleasure the point man.  
Eames not at all wanted to remember the moments after, the moments in bed which had become some of the most rational and intimate events in his life starting from that one night.

Though Arthur remained 'closed off' even after the first time they had shared a bed, the younger man seemed to be more at ease around Eames. They didn't flirt or bicker like they had done before Mal's death, but neither did Arthur walk around with a hunch to his shoulders and an empty haze over his eyes anymore.

Eames thought he'd been doing the right thing. He really had thought so and had kept believing this every time they had sex in one of their apartments or in hotels or that one time in a back alleyway near Eames' place in Mombasa, just because they simply hadn't been able to wait any longer as they had met after four months of not having seen each other.

Yet.

The sex was never happy. Never fully satisfying and it always left a bitter taste on Eames' tongue. It felt more as if Arthur needed it to escape, like one would turn to alcohol or drugs, Arthur would turn to animalistic intimacy with the forger.

It hurt Eames to think that he was exactly that to Arthur and nothing more. Because Eames himself couldn't help falling more and more in love with his colleague.

So, that's why he savored the after moments - when Arthur didn't spontaneously order him to leave -.

* * *

_"Remember two years ago?" Arthur asked, his voice croaking as they shared a cigarette. Their limbs lied tangled in a mess of sheets and their chests still heaved slightly, their skin shiny with sweat and the scent around them loaded with sex._

_Eames turned his head on the pillow and couldn't help but smile at the sight of a disheveled looking Arthur. The point man's normally neatly pomaded hair now stuck up in all directions, messily framing his pale face - which now was beautifully flushed -._

_"No." Eames answered truthfully, not being able to remember or willing to as he felt utterly spent. He instead optioned to steal the cigarette from between Arthur's lip. _  
_The man let him._

_"When we went to Mal's birthday." Arthur explained further, a hint of a grimace curving around his lips as he spoke her name._

_It was a breakthrough to Eames. Arthur never spoke about Mal, ever. In the dozen times they had shared these after-sex moments in bed with one another, the point man had never mentioned anything revolving her._

_"Yeah." Eames smiled widely as he did recall that night. The forger lifted the ashtray from his chest and rolled onto his side, facing Arthur. The point man twitched slightly when Eames placed the cold porcelain ashtray on the younger man's tummy._

_"I think that was the happiest night of my life." Arthur confessed with a frown. Eames tapped the ashes from his cigarette and then handed the stick over._

_"You were hammered." Eames snorted slightly, recalling it had been the first time he'd ever seen Arthur that drunk. He had been a completely different man and ever since, the forger couldn't forget the saying of how one's true self seeps through when being drunk. _  
_If that were the case… Arthur was even more amazing than Eames had found out of him to be._

_"There were no boundaries left. It felt great." Arthur murmured, taking a drag from the cigarette before tipping his head over and meeting Eames' eyes._

_"I wish I could be like that always." He said slowly with the slightest hint of a frown._

_"You should try alcoholism then." The moment the forger had said the words he regretted them, knowing he shouldn't be joking when Arthur was baring his heart to him._

_But the point man huffed, his eyes squinting as if he was smiling. Perhaps he was._

_"Yeah, maybe I should." Eames wanted to say something at that. He wanted to say a stern 'no', slightly in fear of Arthur actually being serious about that. But instead he stole the cigarette, pressed it out and leaned over Arthur to place the ashtray on the night cabin, then he kissed him._

_Arthur grunted in surprise but immediately answered with wrapping his lips and tongue sloppily around Eames'._

_It was the first time Eames had been allowed to spend the night._

* * *

Looking back at it afterwards, Eames knew he could've never guessed that Arthur had not been getting better at all.

In contrary.

* * *

_"Don't." Arthur whispered and Eames' eyes fluttered. He was still half asleep and it took a moment before he grasped the environment around them._

_He recalled he had met up with Arthur earlier today, after not having been in touch for three long months. _  
_He also recalled how different the sex had been this time._

_Arthur had actually shown him a sliver of how he had actually missed Eames in a hopefully similar way as how Eames always missed him when they were separated. _  
_The point man hadn't been passionate, but more so sensual and desperate. It felt as if he had wanted to devour Eames as they had fucked slowly, too slow for being a hookup._

_Eames, who had been taken aback by the different but very welcome take on their sex life, had loosened up during the 'love making' and he recalled how his fingers had threaded through Arthur's soft hair, eyes lost in the other's as their bodies grinded and arched in symphony._

_Though as seemed to be the rule with Arthur, good things didn't last and the fight that had followed had been a first in years._

_Eames didn't even recall what it had started, well, not really. But it had been about how Arthur had bared himself like that and Eames had commented on why the point man couldn't always be like this. Why did Arthur always have to ruin everything with his bloody depression that had now been going on for three whole years._

_It had been a low blow. Eames knew. Eames had been deep in depression himself back in the day before Arthur, or Inception. But to see someone you adore sink in deeper and not even paddle to at least try and struggle back to the surface, was truly an agonizing sight to behold._

_Eames had blamed Arthur for not getting better._

_But what Eames really had said was that he couldn't stand the knowledge that Arthur would never make it even with Eames' help._

_Eames was angry at himself. _  
_Because there was simply nothing he could do._

_The fight somehow had imploded instead of exploded and as the flame came to rest Arthur and Eames had crawled into bed and simply had fallen asleep without having solved or talked through anything they had fought and shouted about._

_Eames now noted that Arthur was slightly struggling against his hold as the forger had subconsciously tried to spoon him in his sleep and with a grimace Eames pulled back._

_"Sorry." He muttered, sitting up in the bed and looking at the digital alarm clock next to him on the night cabin. It was one in the morning._

_"You should probably go now." Arthur whispered, his voice soft and stripped from any emotion and in the back of Eames' mind it rung alarm bells. But he didn't pay attention to it._

_After all. They had had a huge fight._

_"Yeah, alright." The man sleepily murmured before getting up and trying to find his clothes in the dark. He stumbled over his pair of pants and grunted when spotting the rest of his assemble._

_The room was dark but Eames' eyes adjusted quickly and with a tight feeling in his chest he looked over his shoulder towards the bed. He could see the contours of Arthur's frail frame, his bony shoulder pale even in the dark and his back literally and metaphorically turned at him._

_He looked tiny. He'd lost a great amount of weight in the past three years after Mal's death and he was but a ghost of the strong, proud man he'd once been. The strong, proud man Eames had met and had fallen in love with._

_A sickened feeling weighted down in Eames' stomach as every nostalgic sense reminded him of how he had found Arthur back then, drunk and drugged in his room before everything had wavered and he had crumbled apart in the forger's arms._

_He knew he'd never forget that afternoon._

_Eames dressed slowly, not wanting to leave so abruptly, needing to talk it out with Arthur because he truly had said horrible things. Untrue things._

_So when he was dressed he walked to the side of the bed and sat down on the edge, his back turned to Arthur's and he took a deep breath._

_"Look, Arthur… I'm sorry." Eames began, squeezing his eyes shut as the fight they had flashed on his eyelids._

_"'S okay." Arthur murmured, shifting slightly as he nuzzled his pillow._

_"No. It's not. I… I was way out of line saying the things I said, Arthur." He heard Arthur shift behind him and he looked over his shoulder to the point man who now lied on his back, eyes meeting his' even through the dark of the bedroom._

_"No, Eames. Look. You were right, okay?" Eames' gut wrenched as he knew damn well he hadn't been right about anything he had thrown at Arthur earlier that night._

_"I should've been over it by now. But I'm not, because yes, I indeed have wallowed into self-pity and am too selfish to see how I am hurting myself and... you." Arthur spoke the words Eames had said to him with a lack of any emotion but acceptance._

_"No-" Eames began but Arthur interrupted him with a warm hand on the forger's back._

_"Eames. It's okay. I'm over it. It's over now." Arthur spoke slowly, articulating every word as if explaining evolutionary techniques to a four year old._

_"Arthur I-you, I wasn't right. It's not your fault at all. I just- I just miss you and I really lo-" Arthur hushed him once again and Eames thought he could see the man smile through the dark. Eames was somehow glad Arthur had interrupted him from what he had almost said, had almost confessed not only to the point man but as well to himself._

_"Don't say anything you'll regret, Mr. Eames." A chuckle fell from Arthur's lips before he pulled his hand away and curled back underneath the sheets._

_"Now go away." It was all odd. Remarkable._

_Eames hadn't seen Arthur smile, heard him joke, heard him this calm in ages. _  
_But it comforted him because Arthur never lied and Arthur had said those exact words that 'he was over it now'._

_Nonetheless he didn't need to have it spelled out that this was a break-up._

_As the forger stood up and walked to the door of the bedroom he turned around and wasn't too sure if the soft gaze Arthur threw him was true or just imaginary._

_"I'm gonna bloody miss you, Darling." A long pause followed before Arthur shifted and seemed to nod._

_"Goodbye, Mr. Eames."_

* * *

Now, two hours later Eames stood in a dark alleyway puffing on the butt of a cigarette with tears in his eyes.

He couldn't believe it was over. He couldn't believe that after nearly a decade of knowing the man, after two years of intimacy, a simply fight had pulled them apart.

Surely, it would've happened sooner or later. But Eames felt gutted because he had initiated the break-up. Because of his big mouth and the inability of coping with Arthur's depression without blaming himself for not saving the man.

_'You're not living, you're just existing!'_ The words the forger had shouted at Arthur only about six hours ago still rang in Eames' mind. The facial expression it had created on the point man's face was even more painful than the words he'd thrown back.

_'I forgot how to live because there's nothing out there for me to live for, let alone for you!'_

Eames squeezed his eyes shut as Arthur's words replayed over and over in his head.  
He had been selfish. The fight had been selfish. Everything about it had been about Eames and not Arthur.

Arthur had needed him and Eames had wavered from the position as the point man's rock to sanity.

Eames flicked his cigarette aside and began to pace out of the alleyway, recalling shamefully how he'd almost told Arthur that he loved him.  
It was crazy what people would say just to keep some sort of affection and bond.

The forger chuckled bitterly and startled when the sound deformed into a sob. He brought up a hand and pressed trembling fingers on his eyelids, padding and trying aimlessly to wipe away the wetness underneath his eyes.

There was a lot of rain streaming down his cheeks, but as he swallowed - his throat aching - and looked up at the sky.

It wasn't raining.

The Brit took a shuddering breath but resumed walking, his heart pacing at the memory of when he'd almost said he loved Arthur and how Arthur had gently interrupted him.

Had it been a lie?

The words that had followed, coming from Arthur, had they really sound amused or rather hopeful?  
What if…

What if Arthur had wanted for Eames to say exactly that.  
What if Arthur had only needed to hear those three words which are said way too often but hardly mean enough, in order to save him?

"Shit." Eames whispered, pausing in his tracks and staring out over the empty city streets, yet seeing nothing but the soft gaze Arthur had thrown at him in the dark when Eames had stood at his door to part ways.

"Shit!" He cursed as it all started to make sense.

_'It's over now.'_ Arthur had said.  
Arthur who had sounded so calm, soothed, yet hopeful for Eames to take action. Hopeful for Eames not to leave him behind alone in his bed, with new realizations that perhaps it had been his own bloody fault - which it hadn't been -.

Eames started to run, back to Arthur's apartment whilst he fumbled into his pants pocket for his phone. His hands were clumsy and stiff from the cold but he managed to dial Arthur's number as he ran through puddles on the empty streets, the sound of his shoes on asphalt crudely loud.

The phone rang seven times before it automatically went to the voice-mail.

"Arthur!" Eames panted, his chest expanding as his heart pounded in panic.

"Arthur! Pick up the phone! Darling I-" A sob interrupted his own words but he continued running, pressing the phone against his ear, hoping, wishing for Arthur to pick up.

"I won't regret them… Arthur. I won't regret those words. I never would. I do, Darling, I do love you. Okay? I love you Arthur. Please wait for me. I'll be there in five. I won't regret them ever, okay? Hang on. Please." Eames never shoved the phone back in his pocket but instead kept it firmly in his hand praying that it would ring before he even had arrived.

It took him three minutes and a nearly sprained ankle before he arrived at the building and he busted inside the great hall, taking the stairs two steps at a time.

It was a battle against time and the man couldn't stop the tears streaming down his cheeks, couldn't stop the words slipping from his lips in a chant. 'Please, please, please.'

The man stumbled into the hallway on the fifth floor and ran to the door which led to Arthur's home. He didn't take time to knock, instead slamming the door open and being grateful for it not having been locked and having bust his shoulder.

"Arthur!" He shouted the point man's name as he quickly ran over to Arthur's bedroom and he took a shuddering breath as his hand rested on the handle.

A flashback to three years ago pressed painfully on in his conscious. Though Eames knew, before opening the door, that this time he wouldn't see a drunk and drugged Arthur.

Eames knew, before opening the door, even before turning on the lights, that the figure on the bed would never react to his presence ever again.

Eames knew, as he walked into the room, that they'd never fight or joke again.

Eames knew, as he embraced the lifeless figure of his friend and drank in the warmth of body heath and freshly poured blood, he'd never get a second chance to say those three words.

He knew it was his fault. He knew he'd been the one to plant the idea in Arthur's mind, that it was Arthur's fault for not getting over it and he already knew he'd never be able to live with that nor repent.

Eames knew he was gone and with that he'd never see Arthur get better. He'd never witness that full-on dimpled smile.

No hope was left and a lot of harm was done.

Eames knew, as he buried his nose in Arthur's soft hair which he had tousled in their love-making only six hours ago, a love-making which had been more of a goodbye than a declaration of fondness-  
Eames knew, as he screamed Arthur's name until his voice broke-

He knew he'd never be able to teach Arthur how to love and be loved. He knew Arthur had died as lonely as he could've been and Eames knew that he hadn't been there for Arthur, even though he had promised this countless times in their history together.

Just like Arthur's last smile,

All of Eames' promises had been just another false alarm.

* * *

Thanks for reading and please review!


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